


Time and Opportunity

by Jaeger_Babe



Series: To Hold, To Have Universe [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Intersex Omega Biology, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Prequel for To Have & To Hold, Romance, Victor's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaeger_Babe/pseuds/Jaeger_Babe
Summary: Victor wonders at the hardened stare Yuuri sends to his plate, the white knuckle grip of his fork, the shallow rising and falling of his chest, and the curiously new scent faintly coming off of him.And he remembers it clearly later that night, right before Yuuri’s glass falls to the floor with a shatter.AKA the events leading up to the original fic + Yuuri's heat from Victor's POV
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: To Hold, To Have Universe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335856
Comments: 47
Kudos: 264





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _“It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;–it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.”  
>  ― Marianne Dashwood, Sense and Sensibility_
> 
> writing this fic opened my third eye. please leave reviews lmao

“Yura, I insist you would have more enjoyment if you danced,” Victor says, dropping a hand on his cousins shoulder. “And there are so many agreeable dance partners,” he tacks on, remembering the several lovely omegas he had been introduced to.

Yuuri’s scoff is loud enough to attract a few looks and titters from other party guests nearby. Victor flashes an apologetic smile when he spots a woman glaring. 

“Come, Yura. Standing around by yourself isn’t dignified, people will think you’re proud.”

“I’m not by myself,” Yuri says, tone petulant, “I’m with you.”

Victor rolls his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. Unless he can convince his cousin to participate he was dooming himself to sit on the sidelines for the whole party. He glances around, trying to figure out the best way to get Yuri out of his shell, barely noticing the omega before he stumbles into them. 

Yuri catches him by the shoulders, helping him stand upright, and Victor lights up when he realizes that he recognizes him; One of the Katsuki’s children, to whom he was introduced to earlier in the evening. He regrets his awful memory when he finds he can’t recall the omegas name.

“Be careful,” Yuri scolds, notably irritated but voice softer than Victor expects. 

“My apologies,” the omega replies, sending a blinding smile at the young alpha. Victor catches a blush growing on his cousins cheeks and barely contains a smirk. Though he can’t blame him, this omega truly is enchanting, even completely out of his cups. 

“It’s—it’s quite alright,” Yuri stutters, “Nothing to worry about. Just be careful.”

“I’m usually much better on my feet,” the omega says, then pauses when the beginning notes of a new song start. “Oh! Come, dance with me, mister… Oh, I don’t even know your name,” he laughs and grabs Yuri’s hands.

Yuri looks down at their hands, stunned speechless. “Mister Plisetsky,” Victor leans forward and says for him, formally introducing him. 

The omega turns his head and grins at Victor, and he finds he can’t blame Yuri for stuttering and blushing, for the breath is knocked out of him under the full attention of such a lovely creature. He can’t tell if a second or a minute passes before the omega looks away, tugging Yuri forward towards the dancing. “Come dance mister Plisetsky!” 

Victor can only stare as he watches them, a curious set of partners; a young, blushing alpha and a charming omega. They’re both light on their feet but Victor can’t hide his smile when he notices Yuri getting tired.

_ Who is this omega? His stamina is incredible. _

The song ends, partners bowing and escorting one another away and Victor knows at once that he must beat the other alphas in the room for his hand. He starts forward, meeting his cousin and the omega. 

“Marvelous,” he praises, delighting in the pink that spreads across the omegas cheeks. “Mister Plisetsky always finds the best dancers.”

“You flatter me, sir,” the omega replies.

“Will you do me the honor of dancing the next with me?”

Pink lips part in a silent gasp, the omega stares at him for a second before curtsying. “Of course, sir.” 

Victor wasn’t sure if the sensation was real or not, the subtle rightness that snapped into place when the omega took his offered hand, nor the way his chest tightened when he brushed past him and caught his scent.

“You must dance often,” he comments.

“I do,” the omega responds, “There’s not much else for an unmarried omega to do here.”

“Do you wish to do things other than dancing?”

“Oh, yes,” Victor almost stumbles at the sigh, his mind unhelpfully imagining it in a different context. 

“Well?” He prods as the omega turns around him, “Will you have me guess?”

The look he receives is playful, coy; practically screaming for a chase. If Victor wasn’t already interested, this would have immediately caught his attention, the subtle beckon to his dynamic. 

“Maybe. Why should I tell you when I could surprise you?”

Victor smiles, continuously delighted. “Do you like surprises, Mister Katsuki?”

“Yuuri, please,” the omega corrects, then continues, “I love them.”

“A lovely coincidence, Yuuri,” he tries out the name, instantly finding how easy it is to say, and how the omega smiles when he says it, “I enjoy them too.”

Yuuri must latch onto this, because when they’re done dancing, right before Victor is about to release him to some other dance partner and possibly seek out Yuuri’s parents, the omega tugs on his hand. 

“Will you dance the next with me?” He asks, then continues upon seeing Victor's shocked expression. “I know most of the people here and none of them are as good of a dance partner.”

_ Ah _ , Victor thinks as he’s led to the dance floor, _ I’ll just have to call on the Katsuki’s next week. _

..........

He takes a moment to collect himself, raking a hand through his hair before shoving his hat over top of it and swinging himself up onto his horse. 

The meeting with Toshiya Katsuki went better than expected, perfect even. The meeting with Yuuri though… Even Victor and his seemingly endless optimism could admit meeting Yuuri again had been nothing short of a disaster.

Perhaps he was mistaken? 

Maybe Yuuri hadn’t been truly interested at the assembly, maybe Victor had just been a passing fascination; a fancy Earl who was just a distraction?

He heaves a sigh. But to dance the rest of the dances with him? Unheard of, even among engaged couples. And Victor was certain the spark between them was mutual.

Yuuri’s coldness towards him was puzzling, especially after he had been so warm and friendly towards Victor when dancing, and he prayed it wasn’t a warning towards their impending marriage. 

Because the deal had already been agreed and signed upon, and there was no taking it back. 

..........

Victor keeps one eye on Yuuri as they walk through the Katsuki’s garden. Phichit and Mari follow behind them at a distance, playing chaperones. They’re hardly necessary though, for Yuuri can barely stand to look at him, let alone give Victor the opportunity to do anything untoward. 

The garden is nice though, much smaller than his own, but he can hardly hold that against the Katsuki’s.

“Do you enjoy poetry?” He asks, speaking for the first time since they started their walk.

Yuuri doesn’t shift or look at him, simply playing with the ends of his wrap. “No, my Lord,” he responds after a moment.

“I’ve a fondness for Shakespeare, have you tried reading his works?”

“I have not, my Lord.”

“Perhaps you will allow me to read you some?” Victor offers, another olive branch to join the many he’s offered every day. He waits with bated breath to see what Yuuri will decide.

The omega tightens his wrap around him and glances over his shoulder at his friend and sister, before turning back. “If his Lordship allows, I would beg he let me return to the house,” he pauses, fleetingly meeting Victors gaze before looking away and shifting, “before I catch a chill.”

“Of course,” Victor barely gets the words out before Yuuri is curtsying and walking as fast as he can back towards the house. 

For a moment he wonders if he somehow stumbled into marrying the most manipulative, teasing omega in the world.

He suppresses the agitated scent he knows wants to come out and starts to approach their chaperones, still staring after Yuuri. They both start as they notice him and each bow.

“I just remembered that I have urgent business in Town,” he lies, “please inform your parents and Yuuri that I will not be back until the months end.”

“So we should not expect to see you until the wedding, Lord Nikiforov?”

“No,” Victor says curtly, “I don’t think I’d be welcomed if I returned before then.”

They exchange a glance between them, but neither say anything else besides wishing him safe travels. 

..........

Yuuri looks ethereal in his wedding dress. The lace collar on his neck is thin and small, showing the untouched expanse of skin that begs for a bonding bite. He has to catch himself from showing his lust as he stands at the alter next to the omega. 

“—as long as you both shall live?”

It takes a moment for the words to catch up to Victor, too transfixed by Yuuri to properly pay attention.

“I—I will,” he quickly responds. He tries to send the omega a reassuring glance with a small smile, but Yuuri’s eyes only flash to him briefly before losing to the floor. 

Victor feels fortunate that only the minister can see their faces and he hopes that Yuuri will manage to summon up some kind of happy expression when they’re to face the crowd. He’s not sure if he can survive a miserable husband on his arm.

When it’s time for Yuuri to speak his voice is firm, with no shaking or stuttering, a short and simple, “I will.”

The ceremony seems to go quickly after that; Victor finds holding Yuuri’s hand in his a marvel, his hand so light and fingers slender, and they easily follow the minister through vows and exchange golden bands.

Then more prayers and kneeling and more vows, and then…

It all stops when Victor realizes he’s being instructed to kiss Yuuri. For the first time since the assembly, Victor gets a clear look into those brown eyes, gazing back at him with trepidation. 

He suddenly feels guilty for leaving for a month, for not spending more time with the omega. Forgiving up on getting to know him before they were to be married.

_ Well _ , he thinks as his eyes travel down to look at those lips,  _ I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to spend together after today. _

He swiftly leans forward and presses his lips to Yuuri’s. They’re warm and soft, and Victor can feel Yuuri’s breath hitch before he pulls away, keeping it sweet and chaste before their audience.

Victor can’t help but smile at the bright pink on the omegas cheeks and nose. 

..........

The carriage is permeated with Yuuri’s nervous scent. Being trapped with it and the omega causing it nearly drives him mad.

After a long while of surreptitiously glancing at Yuuri and away, he builds up the courage to speak. 

“Are you alright?”

Yuuri jumps, his scent spiking before receding a bit, as if he finally grew conscious of it. Victor watches as he shakes his head at the floor. “Yes, my Lord, I am fine.”

Victor’s response is cut off by the carriage jerking over a large bump. “Unfortunate, these roads,” he says instead, “I wish I had known about them. I usually travel this way on horseback and don’t take much notice.”

His new husband doesn’t respond, his gaze firmly locked on the curtain covered window. Victor doesn’t waste the opportunity, glancing over his— _ his! _ —omega, taking in the contours of his face, jaw, and neck.  _ He’s beautiful _ , Victor thinks.  _ I want to kiss him. _

The carriage hits another large bump, sending them both to the roof and back down, and the lurching sends Yuuri forward. They both reach out, hands grasping at each other's arms. Victor quickly lets go of his one hand, yanking the curtain aside and the window open.

“Be more careful, man!” He yells at the drivers.

“Yes, my Lord,” the one driver responds, “Sorry, my Lord!” 

With a huff, Victor turns back to Yuuri, only to be met by wide eyes. “Are you injured?” He asks.

“No, my Lord,” Yuuri says, gently tugging his arm out of Victor’s grasp. He lets go of his grip, and steadys Yuuri back into his seat. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, Yuuri,” Victor says earnestly, leaning forward slightly, “It’s my duty to take care of you.”

The omega says nothing in response, simply lowering his gaze and slouching back in his seat. It only lasts a moment before Victor sees him jerk and sit upright, a blush on his cheeks and his fingers tangled tingly together. His gaze doesn’t move from the window for the rest of their journey.

..........

“Good morning,” Victor says instinctively as he hears the door to the breakfast room open, figuring it to be one of their late-sleeping guests.  _ Probably Leo _ , Victor thinks. 

“Good morning, my Lord,” Yuuri’s voice says from behind him and Victor stiffens, keeping his eyes on his toast to avoid seeing Christophe's expression. 

“My,” Chris says after a moment, “So formal! Good morning, Lord Yuuri!”

Victor doesn’t need to see to know Yuuri is blushing in embarrassment. The scent is easily recognizable by now and Victor can smell it plainly. 

“That’s hardly necessary, Mr. Giacometti,” Yuuri responds after a pause. The room is silent while Yuuri walks to the table and takes his seat, a footman rushing forward to serve him. 

“Dear Yuuri has always enjoyed formality,” Phichit interjects, looking at Chris, “His tutor was only  _ the  _ Minako Okukawa.”

That brings a delighted hum from guests around the table, especially from Lilia. 

“You must be quite accomplished,” Yavok says from two seats down.

Yuuri smiles modestly. “Only as much as any other omega.”

A laugh escapes Victor before he can stop it, and suddenly all eyes are on him. 

“Pray tell,” Chris says, “What is so funny, Lord Nikiforov?” 

Victor takes a moment to look at Yuuri, who looks like an animal frozen in fear. “Only that my husband is too modest. He would have you all believe that he isn’t the best dancer at every ball he attends, and he is far too content to let mediocre musicians play without anyone knowing he can out-perform them with one hand,” Victor’s lips twitch in a smile as he aims a harmless tease, “But he also slouches too much.”

It’s worth it to see Yuuri’s face bloom red from his nose to his ears as the table laughs good naturedly. 

The topic shifts, guided by banter between Phichit and Chris, and Victor wonders at the hardened stare Yuuri sends to his plate, the white knuckle grip of his fork, the shallow rising and falling of his chest, and the curiously new scent faintly coming off of him.

And he remembers it clearly later that night, right before Yuuri’s glass falls to the floor with a shatter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD the prose for this second chapter is so inconsistent because I wrote half of it literally at the same time as To Hold&to Have? I tried to do some editing but this is about as good as its gonna get lmao
> 
> robert manion voice: _So fill up your tumblr_  
>  Got a show stoppin' number for youuuu

“My Lord?”

Victor’s head snaps up, eyes falling on his husband's servant stood a short distance away and looking at him as if he were quite mad. _Ah,_ he thinks, _I suppose I do look mad._

“Apologies, Minami,” he says, running a hand over his face before standing with a groan. “Now that you’re here I suppose I should go change for breakfast.”

He watches the servant quickly slip into his master’s room, heat scent spilling out before dissipating in the hall. It fills his lungs before he can hold his breath, and it becomes a battle to turn away and walk towards his room. 

He rolls his neck and shoulders as he enters his room, trying to shrug off the instinct to return the omegas corridor. He pulls the cord for his valet and moves to the bowl to wash his face, eager to get the day over with.

The guests are already in the breakfast room when he arrives, their laughter so early in the morning grates on his nerves, especially as sleep deprived as he feels, so he grits his teeth as he sips his tea.

“Victor,” Christophe says, drawing Victors gaze upwards. “Is it true that Yuuri is still sick? Tell me your butler is lying.”

“Still sick? By god, do you think we’ll all catch it?” Leo intones. 

“I think this illness is particular to Yuuri,” Phichit mutters. Victor glares when he sees realization dawn on Chris’s face, his lips slipping into a smirk as he regards Victor’s appearance. 

_Yuuri probably told Mr. Chulanont,_ Victor thinks bitterly as he turns his attention back to his breakfast. When a yawn comes unbidden he turns from his brooding to wondering if he can slip in a nap sometime today, before he sets up camp outside his husbands door for the third night in a row. 

He also wonders if he can gather the courage to slip in and check on his husband without Minami’s watchful eyes on his back. Too many times in the past nights has he stood face to face with the door, telling himself to go in but was unable to go through with it.

All throughout the night he can smell Yuuri’s heat scent, heavy with frustration and fluctuating between lust and distress and anger. The alpha inside him thrashes about until he moves forward, hand on the knob, and listens through the door for a moan, or the rustling of sheets, or maybe his name, but he always fails to hear a single sound and stumbles backwards until he’s against the opposite wall.

Then it repeats, and repeats. 

Minami isn’t far off in thinking him mad.

“Maybe you’re getting sick too, Victor,” Chris’s words break him out of thought. “Getting lost in thought like poor Yuuri was.” 

Victor stands. Phichit and Chris both are giving him looks far too understanding and smug and he needs to escape before the rest catch on. “Forgive me, my mind is elsewhere. I’ll join you later.”

He leaves, and hopes that a walk and fresh air will do him good.

..........

“Minami,” he approaches the boy that evening as he’s leaving Yuuri’s chamber, a tray of barely touched food in his arms. “How is he?”

Minami bites his lip, and although he knows the servant is most likely trying to decide whether to tell the truth or not, Victor can’t help but wish that he’d say how Yuuri has been calling for him and begging for his alpha husband to care for him.

“No,” Minami finally says. “He’s heat-sick, my Lord, his fever is too high and it only gets worse. He has fits in his sleep, too. I fear for him.”

Victor swallows the fear that threatens to choke him, and he fights the urge to punch the wall. 

What a fool his little husband has been, and what a bigger fool Victor has been. 

He puts a hand to his forehead and thinks. Minami has been fiercely protective over his master, stopping short of guarding Yuuri’s room himself. It shows how worried he must be when he speaks again.

“My Lord, isn’t there something you can do to help him?”

Victor doesn’t truthfully know. He’s never been around a heat-sick omega—Never been around an omega in normal heat either—And even if he can convince Yuuri that he means no harm, he’s not sure he’d be able to help him anyway. 

He remembers that night in the carriage, when he told Yuuri it was his duty as his alpha and husband to take care of him, supposes that he must try anyway. 

_And_ , he also thinks, _I suppose I shouldn’t antagonize him…_

“I’ll try to help him, Minami, but I’m not sure if he’ll welcome my efforts.”

The boy doesn’t answer and Victor moves past him to finally, finally, open the door. His heartbeat increases as he steps into his husbands bedroom, flooded with a scent so purely Yuuri it nearly knocks him to his knees. He closes the door behind him and leans against it as his eyes draw over his figure wrapped in a nest of pillows and blankets on the bed, inky black hair sticking out of the top. 

Slowly, he starts forward, and wonders if Minami was lying about the sickness when Yuuri jerks.

Victor rushes forward as Yuuri tosses and moans and struggles in the confines of his blanket. Victor works to unwrap him, when the omega make a punched-out sound, and he hears his own name fall from pink lips. 

It’s the first time he’s ever heard Yuuri say his name, and he can’t deny how lovely it is. He wishes he had heard Yuuri speak it sooner. 

Victor sits and watches as his husband’s breath evens out before speeding up. Victor holds his own breath as Yuuri turns his head and bleary eyes open, gazing directly at him.

He might have expected Yuuri to bolt upright and demand he leave, either scramble away in fear or scream at him in omegan rage. He doesn't expect Yuuri to calmly look at him with slow blinks and sparkling brown eyes.

“I know this is another dream.”

His sweet voice is raspy from sleep and Victor is almost struck dumb by his words. “Another? Do you dream of me often?”

And wonders if he can get Yuuri to tell him. 

“You’re in all of my dreams,” he says softly and Victor wonders what he’s done right in his dreams to make Yuuri so docile towards him. “These heat dreams especially.”

At the mention of his heat Yuuri’s scent seems to curl out from the covers and around him. It makes Victor want to touch and taste and worship and, he realizes, apologize and grovel. Instead, he moves slowly and leans over his husband, who tracks his movement with cinnamon eyes before meeting his gaze directly. “What do I usually do in your dreams, Yuuri?”

The omega seems determined to surprise him, because his eyes track over Victor’s face and he shivers. Victor brushes his hand over Yuuri’s arm and wrist, the skin much hotter than normal, and he remembers why he’s even in here to begin with. He doubts Yuuri will actually answer his question, but as he thinks to re-strategize Yuuri opens his pretty mouth to speak anyway. 

“You bed me. You hold me down and give me your knot and mark, and—“ he stops and Victor, thrown, wants to beg him to continue. 

“And?” He prompts, and lets his thumb brush over Yuuri’s scent gland on his wrist. He can’t help but inhale—Yuuri’s heat-sick smell makes him want to make his dreams reality and bury himself under the covers until his husband is satisfied. He wants to know all of his omega’s desires so he can fulfill them one by one. 

“And you…” Yuuri licks his lips, his expression falters, and Victor wonders if he’s realizing he’s not dreaming. And then Victor thinks of how he needs to plan for what Yuuri will do when he does realize. “You bind me, and deny me satisfaction until I beg and cry, until I’m forced to say your name.”

_Ah_ , Victor thinks. He wonders if this is the desire his husband has had since the beginning. If he’d expected Victor to force himself on Yuuri on their wedding night, or any time in between, and if his disappointment had been the driving factor behind his attitude towards Victor. 

But it doesn’t seem right, not when Yuuri had been so obviously afraid, his scent spilling out as he shook and barely dared to look at his new husband. Victor had tried to be kind, and gentle from the beginning, hoping that he could coax Yuuri into a friendship, but Yuuri had dodged all advances. 

His mysterious husband, who’s still looking at him with a far-away gaze and whose scent is turning more turned on and lust-landen as Victor stares. He sweeps his hand over the hot skin of Yuuri’s arm, soothing. “And that is what you dream of? What you want?”

He asks, not knowing if he should have just asked from the beginning. If Yuuri’s answer would be different outside of heat-sickness. He’s still surprised when Yuuri answers “Yes.”

Victor can only stare. He feels lightheaded from Yuuri’s heady smell, and every inhale is a failed attempt to clear his head. Everything out of Yuuri’s mouth has been the most he’s said to Victor in months, and is more confusing than anything he’s heard in his life. Victor wonders how he ended up with such a whirlwind of an omega, and if all low-born omega’s are as confusing. 

_Probably not_ , he thinks and reaches to draw back the covers, even more surprised when Yuuri only watches him and doesn’t make to stop him. _And I doubt all are as lovely as Yuuri._

His chemise is dirty and wet, and uncovered, Yuuri’s scent is thicker, the heat-sickness cloying. His alpha knows that something is wrong with the nearly naked omega under him and begs to help. 

“You’ve let yourself get heat-sick,” he says after he swallows. It’s about as close to a reprimand as he can force out. He far more distracted by the softness of Yuuri’s arms and the way his scent spills out when he rubs over his wrists. 

“Yes,” Yuuri says again, and a glance at his face reveals his eyes are wider now, more alert as he stares as Victor. 

Victor can help but tease. “What an odd way to gain sympathy from your husband.”

_I might need to prepare for a fight_ , he thinks. He can’t imagine Yuuri will be happy to see him once he realizes he’s not a dream. _I won’t force myself on him, but he must know that I don’t mean to leave him._

He aims to start small, and turns his hand to scent his husbands wrist, but that seems to be all Yuuri needs. He watches as Yuuri’s eyes go wild and his face lights with anger, and Victor grabs his wrists, working to protect himself as much as Yuuri, who struggles against him. 

_He doesn’t like teasing_ , Victor can only think as he pulls Yuuri to him, _Maybe if I…_

He tightens his grip on Yuuri’s wrist and brings his other hand to hold Yuuri’s nose to the scent gland on his neck. He’s more adept as controlling his scent than Yuuri, who’s almost choked them with his distress, and pumps out calming pheromones to soothe his husband. 

He rubs circles into his wrist and pats Yuuri’s hair, and counts the seconds as they pass. Slowly, slowly, Yuuri relaxes, his head lolls on Victor’s shoulder, and the hand curled in his shirt loosens, nails no longer digging in indents through cloth. 

They remain that way for as long as Yuuri seems to allow it, before he lets the omega wiggle off his lap and sit on the bed. Victor keeps a hand on him anyway, just incase Yuuri finds his anger again. 

“Your fevers gone down quickly,” he’d felt Yuuri cool down in his hold, surprised at how effective scenting was. “How do you feel?”

It’s not surprising when Yuuri doesn't answer. His gaze firmly locked anywhere that isn’t Victor. 

“Ah, I see your attitude towards me has not changed, despite the fact I helped you.”

He knows would help Yuuri a million times, but he wished that he wouldn’t have to manhandle such a willful omega to do it. He almost says as much when his husband finally looks at him with a glare worthy of little Yuri Plisetsky. He decides to resort to teasing again, because at least manhandling Yuuri had meant getting to hold him. 

“You were much more inclined towards me when you thought me a dream. Maybe I should not have helped you after all.”

That gets a reaction, and he watches as Yuuri grinds and bares his teeth and seethes before he bites out a sharp “you're horrible,” far the most honest thing he’s said to Victor while sober. He tries to jerk his wrist out of Victors grip. “Let go of me.”

“I ought not,” Victor says, and he briefly worries if he can stomach forcing Yuuri to let him stay. He’s an alpha, but he knows he’s not _cruel._

“Leave!” Yuuri growls. 

_Willful omega indeed_ , Victor thinks. “No.”

Then he fears Yuuri will truly injure himself, because his strength seems to triple as he pulls backwards and rather than release his husband Victor simply follows him further onto the bed. He almost laughs at the comical look of pure horror that passes over Yuuri’s features.

_He doesn’t like teasing_ , he reminds himself and steels his expression. Then he watches as the omega switches before his eyes, face falling and looking up at Victor though dark, pretty lashes, begging to be left alone. 

His alpha cries to see it, and Victor very nearly finds himself giving in, when his thumb brushes over Yuuri’s scent gland and he remembers the heat-sickness.

“Your heat-sick will surely return if I go,” he implores. “So you truly want that?”

He stays still and silent as Yuuri looks away and seems to think it over. Victor can see a blush growing on his cheeks and ears, and watches as it spreads over and down, disappearing under the collar of his chemise and Victor wants to chase it, see how far it goes. Then he notices Yuuri’s scent, sweet and tempting, pure with curiosity and desire—so different from the lust he’d smelled earlier. 

Then Yuuri’s gaze flickers to him and away, and even without reading his scent Victor knows he’s embarrassed. _Maybe I really should not tease him so much_ , he thinks and hooks a finger under Yuuri’s chin. Yuuri doesn’t fight him as he’s made to look into his husbands face, and Victor hopes, hopes, they’re getting somewhere now that Yuuri’s exhausted the fight out of himself and Victor promises himself to not make jokes.

“I will not force you, Yuuri,” _whether or not you want me to,_ he thinks. “But I want to help you.”

“Why?”

_Because no one deserves to suffer heat-sickness when they have a living and capable partner nearby? Because you’re lovely and I want to know why I can’t laugh with you? Because who wouldn’t want to help such a stunning, fertile smelling omega through a heat?_

He knows Yuuri won’t accept any of those reasons, but he settles for a smaller, easier to swallow portion of truth. “Because you are my husband, and I wish to make up for any neglect.”

Maybe not as believable as he hoped, he realizes as Yuuri scoffs openly and looks away. Victor is quick to catch him and direct him back. He goes with something more base, to appeal to Yuuri’s omega. “You are also quite lovely, flushed in the firelight and moaning for me.”

It almost has the desired effect, Yuuri squirming and flushing and his protest is almost non-existent. The alpha in him preens as he brushes over Yuuri’s scent gland and there’s only desire and the most innocent trepidation. “Will you let me help you?” He asks one more time, to be certain. 

“I will not let you… bed me.” 

He can admit he wondered if they would get that far, but Victor easily agrees, tossing any thoughts of burying himself in Yuuri’s heat from his mind. He lets his fingers trail up a soft arm, touching smooth skin.

“I won’t bring you any pleasure.” 

_It’s pleasure enough to have your scent surround me unrestrained, to touch your smooth, flushed skin_ , he thinks. He smiles and bites back saying the words aloud as he brushes his fingers over the lace edge of Yuuri’s chemise, over the sharp and tantalizing lines of his neck and collarbones. “It’s of little consequence,” he says instead and it seems to settle Yuuri a little as he watches Victor touch him. 

It seems too good to be true when Yuuri’s nipples harden under his soft touch, barely grazed as Victor drags his hand down Yuuri’s covered stomach and towards the hem. “May I? Or do you wish to stay covered?”

It shouldn’t surprise him when Yuuri reaches for the hem, eyes narrowed and lips thinned in determination. Victors eyes follow the fabric as it drags up and up, revealing more and more of Yuuri’s soft flesh than he’s seen before. He struggles to tear his gaze away from the flushed and hardened cocklet, or the smooth, full expanse of Yuuri’s stomach and hips, or the pretty peaks on his chest, begging to be touched. 

Yuuri flings away the fabric, the chemise landing on the floor with a whisper of a sound, and Victor places a soft hand on Yuuri’s knee, and tentatively lets his hand drag up his thigh. 

The higher he gets the more he can feel heat radiating from between Yuuri’s legs, and then he realizes that not only can he smell the scent of heat, but he can smell Yuuri’s slick, and _oh,_ that nearly drives him mad. 

He ventures to look, now that Yuuri is leaned back on soft pillows and spread for him, and he’s more lovely than Victor could’ve ever imagined, red and glistening, and he brushes a finger over his folds and then gets distracted when Yuuri’s cocklet twitches. He moves his hand upwards, fingertips grazing impossibly smooth skin, and rubs his thumb under the head, an action he knows he likes himself. It nearly takes his breath away when Yuuri gasps, and he wonders what other noises he can get his husband to make.

He moves downward, towards those lovely lips and the tiny, dripping hole that winks at him. He remembers Yuuri’s words, about teasing him until he begs, and wonders if he meant it. For however much Yuuri seems to hate his verbal jokes, he seems to come alive under Victors touch and gaze, arching and whining as he coats his fingers with slick and makes aborted movements with his hips.

Victor thinks he might have found a piece of heaven on earth as he slips a finger into his cunt. Yuuri is hot on the inside, tight and impossibly wet. He can’t tear his gaze away from where his finger is disappearing into the squirming omega and he can’t shake the idea of replacing it with his tongue.

Instead, he slips in another finger, watches as Yuuri stretches around them, and feels as his cunt constricts and relaxes and draws him in. 

He curls them, searching for a spot he hopes exists, and then Yuuri is melting under him, legs spreading wider and soft, hitching noises come from him. Victor wants more than anything to taste, but feels it will somehow be too much for his sweet husband, so he adjusts himself so that he’s lying alongside Yuuri, letting his eyes sweep over the expanse of his body before they meet brown eyes, blown wide. 

He curls his fingers again, and Yuuri lets out a noise that cuts through Victor and goes straight to his dick. He wants to drink the noise from Yuuri’s mouth, wants to press his lips against Yuuri’s and taste him, but settles on curling his fingers into the same spot as he works his fingers in and out. 

It’s impossible to figure out whether Yuuri hates him more or less than he acts. His eyes continue to bore into Victor’s even while his brows twitch and the rest of his expression falters, twisting in pleasure and flushing prettily. 

“How do you want me to bring you off?” Victor can’t resist, leaning closer and inhaling Yuuri’s scent. He wants to taste, so, so bad. “Like this, with just my fingers? Or with my mouth on you?”

Yuuri tenses under him, and Victor feels a hand on his chest. “No! Just this. I’m so close.” 

As if on cue, he feels Yuuri’s insides flutter around his fingers, and frantic desire permeates the air around them. Victor moves his hand faster, and wonders if he can get away with more teasing.

“You don’t want me to put my mouth on your sweet, little cock?” He asks, and sees the dripping cocklet jump. He fights a grin and drops his voice, and lets Yuuri shiver under him, knowing it’s not due to any draft. “I could bury my face in your cunt and drink your slick until you’ve cum on my tongue.” 

Yuuri clenched around him, and slick gushing around his fingers as he drives into him harder and faster, and curling in that one spot Yuuri seems to love. He watches as the lovely omega under him pants and squirms and looks at him through hooded eyes with flushed cheeks. 

“You’re so warm around my fingers,” he curls them in emphasis, mesmerized as Yuuri’s mouth parts. “Wet and tight and perfect, and you’re such a lovely color, too.” Yuuri’s pupils are blown wide, more black than lovely brown. “Exquisite.”

Then Yuuri cums, he turns his head into Victor’s chest—and Victor enjoys that far more than he’d ever admit—and moans long and high as his core ripples and he spills on his stomach, release dripping onto the bed. He trembles in Victors arms as he comes down, slowly and with shaking breaths. 

He removes his fingers, not wanting to hurt his husband with overstimulation, and goes to wipe them before he stops. Yuuri still has his face buried, and so with little guilt Victor decides to bring his fingers to his mouth for a taste. 

It’s sweet and salty and addicting, he discovers as he darts out his tongue, and he wishes he could have drank it from the source. Then he sees Yuuri watching him, a disbelieving look on his red face as he gazes up at Victor. He tears his eyes away before Victor is even done, and the alpha in him rumbles in satisfaction as his husbands eyes drift shut and his breathing evens out. 

Yuuri smells satisfied and like he’s no longer heat-sick, although the smell still lingers in the sheets. Victor hesitates before he pulls the covers up, keeping his husband modest, and drapes his arm over him.

_I don’t know if I’ve ever met such a confusing and enchanting omega_ , he thinks as he watches Yuuri sleep. His husband is shy, and gets nervous often, and Victor regrets throwing him into running the house without much guidance — petty on his part. 

He resolves to start afresh, tomorrow, and to make an effort. _And to tease him less_ , he thinks, then pauses as he remembers the fantasy Yuuri had laid out for him, and how he had responded to Victors touch. He brushes his finger through the soft, dark hair on Yuuri’s forehead. _Unless it’s in a way that matters._

..........

~ _three months later~_

He could hardly believe how his luck had turned, that he managed to win over the affections of his husband. The times when he had been cold seemed far away and easily forgotten, especially when Yuuri gazed at him with such fondness in his brown eyes. 

It had only taken a few blows to his pride, along with some empathy and time to get Yuuri to stop looking at him with trepidation and fear, and some honesty, clad in spinning revolutions of sharp barbs and sweet-spoken honey for those looks to turn trusting, and—Victor sometimes prayed—loving.

So, in the end, it took very little convincing for Yuuri to agree to listen to Victor read him selections of Shakespeare. Victor leads him to the couch by the hand, his thumb stroking gently over the back of Yuuri’s. 

Once Yuuri is settled beside him he picks up his book and starts:

_“Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.” _

Victor peeks up from the page, the corner of his lips quirking up when he sees Yuuri’s gaze fixed firmly on him. 

“It’s lovely,” Yuuri says after a pause, a small smile playing on his lips. Victor desperately wants to kiss him.

So he does, leaning forward until he’s brushing his lips over Yuuri’s. It doesn’t even take a second for Yuuri to respond, tilting his head and kissing back firmly.

After a moment, Victor draws back. “Shall I continue?” 

“Please,” Yuuri says breathless, and Victor does, picking up his book again and clearing his throat. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Yuuri sigh and lean back, slouching against the couch, and a smile grows as he reads aloud:

_“It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is Sonnet 116 by Shakespeare (but seriously _that_ scene in Sense and Sensibility kills me every fucking time.)


End file.
